The Masquerade of the Eternities
by time-converges
Summary: Donna and the Doctor attend a special masquerade ball. Doctor/Donna romance.


"A masquerade ball?"

"Yes, a masquerade ball, a masked ball, whatever you want to call it," the Doctor replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It's known throughout the seven systems as the best party of the year. "

"Which year?" Donna asked, suppressing a grin at his enthusiasm.

"Every one, of course! They call it the Masquerade of the Eternities." He thrust the paper he had been waving about under her nose. "We even have an actual invitation, no need for the psychic paper."

She took the paper from him and frowned at it, sceptically. The writing was a little smudged, and she wondered how long he had been carrying this around in his pocket. "Sounds posh. How did you get an invitation?"

"We-ell, that's a little complicated. Let's just say I did a favour for the royal family, and leave it at that."

Donna frowned again, wondering what he was not telling her. "A favour," she repeated.

"Yes, well, I was here, oh, ages ago now, on their timeline, but I helped sort out a slight misunderstanding involving the heir to the throne and a, shall we say, ambitious off-worlder, who had her sights set on marrying him."

"And you sorted it out, did you?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, well, they really sorted it out on their own, but I was there, and helped with the negotiations, as it were."

"Really."

"Oh yes, really. It turned out they were madly in love, and only needed someone to convince his parents that the match was a good one, despite her lack of connections."

"Sounds medieval," Donna said with a sniff. "But I do love a happy ending. And a ball," she added with a smile.

"So you'll go with me?" he asked, and she smiled again at the delight on his face.

"Of course I will. But, this says formal attire – I'll need a gown!"

He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe room. "The TARDIS will sort you out, don't worry."

"And what about the masks?"

"Those will be provided once we get there. Don't worry, I'll tell you everything you need to know when we get there," he added as he began setting the controls on the console. When she didn't move, he looked up at her. "Go on, I'm sure the TARDIS has something lovely picked out for you."

She hesitated, something in the way he had said he'd tell her what she needed to know niggled at her. But she shrugged and headed for the wardrobe room. She'd find out soon enough.

She found several beautiful gowns waiting for her when she arrived in the wardrobe room, and after trying several of them on she settled on a green silk with a sweetheart neckline that she decided wasn't too low-cut for a royal ball. The sleeves were short, and the skirt skimmed over her hips, and rustled pleasingly as she moved. She smiled at her reflection as she smoothed her hands over her hips, and nodded. She mouthed a silent "Thank you" to the ship as she rummaged through and found a pair of shoes in her size that would be perfect for dancing. She debated what to do with her hair, finally putting it up in a soft bun but leaving some tendrils around her face. Satisfied that she was presentable at least, she headed toward the console room again.

She stopped in surprise in the doorway, astonished to find the Doctor had changed out of his familiar pinstripes and was wearing a tuxedo. "You changed!" she blurted, before she could stop herself.

"Of course I did." He turned to her, and she was pleased to see his jaw drop slightly as he took in her dress. "Oh—you look—" he stopped and cleared his throat. "You look lovely," he finished finally, and she saw him swallow hard.

She felt her cheeks flush a little, but she smirked at him. "Not bad for half an hour's work, eh?" When he didn't answer, she walked over to him. She heard his intake of breath as she stepped closer, and she reached up to adjust his bow tie. "A tux, hmm? I wondered whether you owned one."

"The invitation did say formal attire," he said, but she thought his voice sounded a little strained.

She looked him up and down, then met his eyes as he guiltily raised his gaze from her neckline. "It suits you," she said finally, and his eyes twinkled back at her.

He held out his arm and she took it, surprised at the butterflies she felt in her stomach as he covered her hand with his where it was tucked in the crook of his arm. "Shall we, Ms. Noble?"

"Yes, we shall," she replied with a smile, as he led her down the ramp to the door of the TARDIS.

Donna looked doubtfully at the mask she had been handed. She had expected something smaller, that would just go around her eyes, but this was a full-face mask, that would obscure every thing but the eyes. The one the Doctor held was the same, although rather less elaborate of course. She looked up to find him watching her closely.

"Is that alright?" he asked softly.

"I just thought—I didn't know it would cover my whole face. I might have skipped the makeup," she said with a shrug to cover her nervousness.

"Everyone will be wearing them, don't worry. They're quite light, and you won't have any trouble breathing with them on."

She looked around at the others that were already in the hall, all of them wearing similar masks and seeming to enjoy the ball.

"Oh, and there's one other thing. A small thing, really, nothing to worry about."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What is it?"

"You see, they have a tradition. More of a rule, perhaps. Not quite a law, shall we say—"

"Just tell me," she said, exasperated.

"Once the ball begins – and that will be signified by someone striking that large gong over there—" He gestured toward the end of the hall where a large gong hung from the ceiling. "No one is allowed to speak."

Donna laughed. "Seriously? No one can talk, at all? How does that work?"

He rubbed his hand over his hair, making it stand up even more. "They have an elaborate system of sign language – don't worry, you'll pick it up. The challenge is to communicate without speaking." At her doubtful look, he continued, "Don't worry, they'll know we're off-worlders, and they'll make it easier for us. And it's only until the gong sounds again."

"And how long is that?" she asked, swallowing nervously.

"It depends on the whims of the royal couple, I'm afraid."

"Oh. I can't imagine you not talking voluntarily," she said with a grin.

He stepped closer and leaned in to whisper. "I'll still see your eyes, and remember, they are the windows to the soul."

She shivered a little at his closeness, but didn't pull away. "We'll see who's better at communicating without words, won't we?" she asked, as she slipped the mask over her face.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, as he did the same with his own mask. His familiar brown eyes twinkled merrily at her through the holes in the mask.

"Oh yes," she said, as she tucked her arm through his and let him lead them into the hall. They had only walked a few steps into the room, staying well out of the way of the couples already dancing, when Donna saw someone ascend the stairs to where the gong stood. At a signal, the music stopped, and all of the couples turned expectantly toward the stage as a hush fell over the room. After ensuring everyone was paying attention, the masked servant raised an elaborate mallet, and struck the gong loudly. Donna saw the royal couple, seated in thrones at the opposite end of the hall, begin to applaud, and the rest of the crowd joined in as the music resumed. Donna slipped her arm free from the Doctor to join in the applause.

Donna stood, uncertain, acutely aware that now she couldn't ask the Doctor about the other couples, or the music that was playing, or any of the other things they usually talked about. He turned to her, as though sensing her nervousness, and she met his familiar gaze. He took her hand, and bowed formally to her, holding her gaze all the while. Suppressing a laugh, she curtseyed, then let him lead her onto the dance floor.

He stopped on the outskirts of the area designated for the dancing, and turned to her, slipping his arm around her waist, and taking her other hand firmly in his. She squeezed his hand as she put her other hand at his shoulder, and smiled behind the mask as he began the simple steps of a traditional waltz. She was grateful the music allowed for that familiar dance – she wasn't sure she was ready for anything more elaborate at the moment. He tightened his grip on her waist as the floor filled with more couples, but he guided her expertly through the crowd without missing a beat. She looked up at him to find him looking down at her, his eyes twinkling warmly behind the mask. He shifted his hand again, drawing her closer, and she relaxed and let him lead.

The music transitioned smoothly into another waltz, although with a faster tempo, but the Doctor led them smoothly around the floor. The room was a pleasant whirl of light and color as she moved with the music, his hand firmly at her waist. She glanced at the other couples around them, all of them masked and silent, but every time she looked back at the Doctor, he was looking only at her. She blushed a little, and was grateful for the mask to hide her confusing emotions.

As the song faded into the next, he guided them to the edge of the dance floor and over to where some tables had been set up, laden with food and drink of all descriptions. Smaller tables were scattered around, but no chairs, as the tables were tall enough to use while standing. The Doctor led her to one of the empty tables, then held up one hand in what was an unmistakable "Wait here," signal, and Donna nodded and patted the tabletop. She watched as he went over to the food tables, and she wondered what he would find to bring back.

The music changed tempo again, and she glanced back at the dance floor as the couples there smoothly adjusted to the new rhythm, changing from a waltz to something she didn't quite recognize. The skirts of the women swirled and she tried to keep an eye on their feet, to see what the steps were, but they were moving far too fast. She looked back over toward where the Doctor had gone, and felt a stab of panic when she couldn't see him. Fear coiled in her stomach as she realized all the men looked essentially identical in their formalwear, and far too many of them were tall and skinny. What if she couldn't recognize him?

She felt suddenly exposed, defenceless, standing there alone at the table, clearly an outsider. Several men passed by, and all of them inclined their heads in a manner she hoped indicated respect, but thankfully none of them approached her. She worried for a moment that if one did, she might mistake him for the Doctor, or worse, that he might mistake someone else for her, and leave her behind. Part of her knew that was irrational – of course he wouldn't leave her – but she couldn't help worrying, and feeling out-of-place.

She took a breath, trying to quiet her nerves, and looked back over at the food tables. She smiled to herself at once as she recognized him stooped over one of the tables, gesturing at the items on display, and clearly trying to ask questions without speaking. And as he made a selection and straightened, then turned to return to where she was standing, she realized she'd recognize that loose-limbed walk, and the angle of his shoulders, and how he held himself, anywhere, no matter what he was wearing, and she relaxed. He seemed oblivious to the other people at the surrounding tables as he walked directly back to where she waited and set the plate of food he was carrying down. He handed her one of the tall champagne flutes, and she grinned to see a straw standing in each one, which she guessed was to let them enjoy the champagne without the risk of removing the masks.

He raised his glass toward hers, his eyes smiling as she touched the rim of her glass to his, and then they both sipped through the straws. The champagne was bright and bubbly, and warmed her as it slid down her throat. She set the glass down, and looked doubtfully at the food he had brought. It was all in tiny, bite-sized pieces, but she wasn't sure what any of it was. The Doctor lifted her chin gently with one finger, and put his other hand over his heart. "Trust me," she guessed he was saying, and she nodded.

He took one piece of what looked like an egg roll, and she did the same, then waited, unsure of how they were supposed to eat with the masks on. He raised his hand, holding up the morsel of food, then lifted the mask slightly away from his face, just enough to allow him to pop the bite into his mouth before releasing it. She grinned to herself and nodded again, before imitating his action. He watched her as she chewed and swallowed, and she gave him a thumbs up. The food was delicious, and they quickly worked their way through the delicacies he had brought for her to try.

The music changed again, and he looked over his shoulder at the dancers, before looking back at her, and she could tell even with the mask that his eyebrows were raised in a question. She shook her head slightly, but stepped forward to stand next to him when he looked concerned. She pointed at her eyes, then the dance floor. "I just want to watch," she tried to communicate. Then she held up a finger again, "Just for a minute."

He nodded and stepped around her, slipping his hand around her waist as they watched the other couples turning slowly around the floor. One of the other men passed by, inclining his head toward them both, and she gasped when the Doctor moved his hand lower, against her hip, and drew her slightly closer, possessively. She looked up to find him watching her again. She blushed, but decided two could play this game, so she stepped closer, allowing her other hip to bump against his slightly. He tensed, but didn't move away, and they stood like that until the music ended, Donna acutely aware of his body pressing against hers, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

She tried to watch the other people, wanting to decipher the sign language they were using to communicate, but she was distracted by the feel of the Doctor next to her. The music shifted again, to a slow waltz, and he looked down at her again, the question clear in his eyes. She nodded this time, and he took her hand and led her back to the dance floor. Her breath caught as he took her in his arms again, but he held her slightly away as they moved around the floor. As they passed the dais where the royal family sat, Donna glanced up to see them watching the dancing approvingly, then saw the king signal the orchestra again.

The music changed once more, to a slow, sensual melody, and Donna watched the other couples draw closer to each other in response. The Doctor dropped both hands to her waist, drawing her against him, and she looped her arms around his neck, gasping as he pulled her closer. He leaned his head against hers, and she relaxed and let him take the lead again, as they moved slowly with the music. She wasn't even aware of the others on the floor, only of his arms around her, and the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, and the strange breathlessness she felt at being so close to him. She felt his breath against her neck as he lowered his head, the sides of his mask harsh against her skin.

The music faded, and silence descended, but the Doctor didn't release her. He pulled back slightly, so she could meet his gaze, and she longed to tear off the mask to see what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and whether it was the same mix of emotions she was feeling herself. She wanted to run away, she wanted to pull him closer, she wanted to kiss him, she wanted him to tell her everything was okay. His eyes were dark, and unreadable though, although she feared hers were revealing every thought that was racing through her head.

She jumped at the sound of the gong, and the crowd let out a relieved cheer at being released from the bonds of silence. She was dimly aware of the others removing their masks, and the conversations rising in volume as the music swelled again, but she didn't move. The Doctor released her, but didn't step away, instead lifting his hands to remove her mask. She felt heat in her cheeks as he did, which only increased as he removed his own mask, his gaze never leaving hers. He tossed the masks aside, then settled his hands on her hips again. She slipped her arms around his neck again, and was relieved to see a mix of emotions cross his own face as he cleared his throat. "Donna—" he began, his voice rough.

"Yes," she replied, to the question he hadn't asked, and she drew him down to her to press her lips to his. She pressed closer against him as he responded, oblivious to the others around them on the dance floor until one of the other couples jostled them slightly and she pulled away with a laugh.

"I hope that wasn't against the rules," she said, her voice unsteady.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. "No, but perhaps—" He glanced at the others around them.

"It is a bit public," she agreed. She dropped her hands to straighten his bow tie again, wanting to prolong the physical closeness another moment. "It really does suit you," she added, giving him another once-over.

"I used to think it was unlucky," he said, as he took her hand and led her off the dance floor, and toward the door where they had arrived.

"And now?" she asked, glancing at him sideways.

"Not so unlucky," he replied, squeezing her hand.

Later, much later, when the tuxedo and her dress lay in messy heaps on the floor, she was entangled in his arms, breathless and sated as he stroked the skin of her arm softly. They had hardly spoken as they had undressed each other, communicating through touch and sighs and soft murmurs of encouragement. She listened to his heartbeats under her ear, unable to stop smiling. He glanced down at her.

"What's funny?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, with a laugh.

"Go on, it's not polite to laugh at a man in bed you know."

"Oh, I'm not laughing at you," she said, leaning up to press a kiss against his jaw. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"How worried I was that you wouldn't recognize me – or I you – with the masks on."

He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'd know you anywhere, Ms Noble."

She kissed his chest. "Yes, I know that now."

He rolled her onto her back and bent to kiss her neck and collarbone. "So, we do alright without words, don't you think?"

"Hmmm, you might have to convince me of that one more time," she said with a chuckle.

"I'll accept that challenge," he replied, before capturing her lips with his again. And they had no need for words for quite a while.


End file.
